ple. They lay tossing in
sight of the flame which he had kindled, till the first pale light of a
January morning showed them that they were close to the island of Goree.
The King and his Lords, stiff with cold and covered with icicles, gladly
landed to warm and rest themselves. [1]

After reposing some hours in the hut of a peasant, William proceeded to
the Hague. He was impatiently expected there for, though the fleet which
brought him was not visible from the shore, the royal salutes had been
heard through the mist, and had apprised the whole coast of his arrival.
Thousands had assembled at Honslaerdyk to welcome him with applause
which came from their hearts and which went to his heart. That was one
of the few white days of a life, beneficent indeed and glorious, but
far from happy. After more than two years passed in a strange land, the
exile had again set foot on his native soil. He heard again the language
of his nursery. He saw again the scenery and the architecture which were
inseparably associated in his mind with the recollections of childhood
and the sacred feeling of home; the dreary mounds of sand, shells and
weeds, on which the waves of the German Ocean broke; the interminable
meadows intersected by trenches; the straight canals; the villas bright
with paint and adorned with quaint images and inscriptions. He had lived
during many weary months among a people who did not love him, who did
not understand him, who could never forget that he was a foreigner.
Those Englishmen who served him most faithfully served him without
enthusiasm, without personal attachment, and merely from a sense of
public duty. In their hearts they were sorry that they had no choice but
between an English tyrant and a Dutch deliverer. All was now changed.
William was among a population by which he was adored, as Elizabeth had
been adored when she rode through her army at Tilbury, as Charles the
Second had been adored when he landed at Dover. It is true that the old
enemies of the House of Orange had not been inactive during the absence
of the Stadtholder. There had been, not indeed clamours, but mutterings
against him. He had, it was said, neglected his native land for his
new kingdom. Whenever the dignity of the English flag, whenever the
prosperity of the English trade was concerned, he forgot that he was a
Hollander. But, as soon as his well remembered face was again seen,
all jealousy, all coldness, was at an end. There was not a b